


Five-Alarm

by Magz (sparklepocalypse)



Series: The Five-Alarm 'Verse [2]
Category: Black Hawk Down (2001)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepocalypse/pseuds/Magz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is a bit of chatting, a bit of fucking, and a bit of angsting, but not necessarily in that order.  Sequel to "The Watchers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five-Alarm

**Author's Note:**

> I must again thank [](http://perseph2hades.livejournal.com/profile)[perseph2hades](http://perseph2hades.livejournal.com/) for encouraging me to write this pairing in the first place, but also lick the feet of [](http://stewardess.livejournal.com/profile)[stewardess](http://stewardess.livejournal.com/), without whom this entire fandom would never have been discovered by me. And [](http://lionflame.livejournal.com/profile)[lionflame](http://lionflame.livejournal.com/), this groan's for you. Y'all rock. Thanks to Mr. Spell-Checker for the quick beta.

Kurt dreamed of Germany.

He was sixteen, standing in front of a mirror in the dimly-lit bathroom of a club in Heidelberg. His eyeliner had smudged while he was dancing, so he was carefully reapplying it. He hoped he was doing a good enough job of it, but the guys in the last stall down were a little distracting, what with all the thumping and the ' _Fick mich! Bitte, bitte, fick mich_!' He'd nearly put his eye out a couple of times now.

Stupid eyeliner. It'd been much simpler when Brigitte had done it for him. He could never get the corners right, and under one eye was a wobble of black.

Oh well. Not like anyone out on the dance floor would notice. They were all too drunk to care about his eyeliner.

A hand gripped his waist. Kurt looked up into the mirror to see who was behind him, but the guy moved down to lick his neck, and he couldn't really see his face. He squirmed a little, but didn't push him away. The guy's mouth on his neck felt pretty good, anyway, and whoa, so did his hand on Kurt's crotch.

The guy snapped open Kurt's fly and wiggled his fingers into Kurt's tight jeans. He pulled Kurt's hips back so that Kurt could feel how hard he was, against the top of his ass and his lower back. Kurt stared at the guy in the mirror.

With one hand wrapped around Kurt's dick, Dale looked up, found Kurt's eyes in the mirror, and grinned.

A shot rang out. Dale slumped forward against his back. His eyes were wide and blank.

Kurt woke up with a scream lodged in his throat and a fast-disappearing hard-on.

 

Those soldiers who were capable of tearing down equipment were running around the base, dismantling things as ordered. Dale had wanted to help, but one of the officers that were heading up the clean-up project saw his cast and turned him right back around toward the hangar.

He moped for a good long time about not being able to help because of his stupid wrist, then decided to give that letter home another shot.

_Mom, Dad_ , Dale wrote with careful precision, after having taken five minutes to figure out how to hold a pen with his right hand. _We're coming home, and I think I might be gay._

Dale blinked down at his notebook for a minute. _That_ certainly hadn't been what he'd planned on writing in the letter to his parents. He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching him, then tore out the sheet of paper, balled it up, and shoved it in his mouth.

And promptly started choking.

He tried to be subtle about the hacking-to-death thing, but he guessed that his expression had pretty much given it away when someone walked past and whacked him on the back. The soggy wad of paper arced through the air and landed, then rolled to a stop between two booted feet several feet away from him.

He cringed. "Please don't be an officer," he mumbled quietly as he forced his eyes to move up the body of the soldier in front of whom his letter had landed, up and up and -- "Shit." Automatically, he shot to his feet and saluted.

"Language, son," Captain Steele chastised. Then he bent down, picked up the wad of paper, smoothed it out, and read it.

The color drained from Dale's face so quickly that he felt a little unsteady. Goddamn, was he glad he'd locked his knees. Otherwise, he probably would've fallen over when Steele looked up from the paper. He looked serious. Dale swallowed hard, and then again when the fist-sized lump in his throat decided it didn't want to go away.

"Let's take a walk, Sizemore." Captain Steele waved the paper slightly, then tucked it into a pocket of his pants.

Dale followed the captain out of the hangar and around the corner, and barely kept from stopping short when they wound up in a very familiar out-of-the-way nook. He closed his eyes for a brief moment to get his bearings -- _drop of sweat running across a smooth jaw line; it gets snatched up by a flash of pink tongue when it rolls too close to bitten lips_ \-- and opened them wide again, immediately. Closing his eyes, apparently, was a bad idea in this location.

Captain Steele cleared his throat. "Son," he said, and fished the paper out of his pocket. "This is dangerous. You know you can't... be that way, without getting into a whole mess of trouble."

With a frown, Dale shifted nervously. "Understood, sir." Why did Steele think he'd tried to eat the letter in the first place?

"These men on base would give their lives for you, Sizemore, just like they would for any other Ranger. And most of them don't care whether you are or you aren't. But in Washington, they make the laws for the people who _do_ care. You're a good soldier, son. It'd be a shame to see that go to waste, hooah?" He smoothed the letter again.

"Hooah, sir."

Captain Steele pressed the letter to Dale's chest and patted it twice. "Make sure you dispose of this the right way, son."

"Yes, sir," said Dale, and he crumpled it again. When he could, he was going to shred and burn it.

The officer started off, but then stopped and turned around, a twinkle in his eye. "And Sizemore? It's not _me_ , is it?"

Dale fought back a laugh. " _No_ sir," he replied quickly.

Steele's eyebrow shot up.

"I mean, I'm sorry sir. But, no sir." Dale winced a little, waiting for the response. A movement behind Captain Steele caught his eye, as Doc Schmid walked out of the hangar and _stretched._

Steele followed Dale's stare. He glanced at Kurt, then back at Dale. "Glad to hear it, son." Then he walked off, whistling softly.

When the Captain was out of his line of sight, Dale started to laugh.

 

The concrete floor was cool under Kurt's bare toes. He flexed them slowly and let the lukewarm water pouring from the showerhead rinse the soap off his body, felt it puddle in a weak foam at his feet before being whisked down the drain. His eyes were closed, his face upturned into the flow of water. He'd have opened them, but he was too exhausted. It had been a long couple of days, and to make matters worse he was paranoid about sleeping. Every time his head hit the pillow, he started having the dreams again -- a weird mix of sexual fantasies and nightmares that left him hard and terrified when he woke up.

Kurt hadn't slept right since that hour outside, the other day.

He yawned and cracked his back, and rubbed a soapy hand over his scalp. The water felt great rinsing the soap away, almost like a massage. He felt himself getting more relaxed. His fingers loosed their grip on the soap.

Halfway into the fall, Kurt heard a quick _slapslapslap_ of bare feet on wet concrete and then found himself hauled up, right before he would've hit the floor. He looked up at his rescuer. "Hello," he said, then smiled, and passed out.

Struggling to hold onto Kurt's slippery body with one bare and one trash bag-covered hand, Dale sighed.

 

It was dark when Kurt woke up. He opened his eyes slowly and stretched. Checked his watch -- he had about ten minutes to get to dinner, or he'd be going without tonight. He was jogging as soon as he was on his feet, crossing the base from the infirmary. Once in the hangar, he piled food onto his plate, then found a seat. He was lifting a fork full of rice to his mouth when, on a glance around the room, he saw Dale. Staring at him.

Fuck, he was hard.

He shoveled his food into his mouth, and washed it down with a couple big gulps of water. Then he stood, took care of his dishes, and walked as fast as he could without looking conspicuous, out of the hangar. Counted back from thirty.

On two, Dale walked outside and looked around.

Kurt looked him over for a minute, silently. He walked over to him. "Humvees," he said. There were too many guys around for what he wanted to do to Dale. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Dale was headed toward the vehicles, and then ran to the medics' tent to get a few things.

When he rounded the corner of a building, intent on approaching the Humvees, however, Dale grabbed his arm and yanked him close, covering his mouth with one hand. He made a quiet sound of protest. "Shh," Dale whispered. "Listen."

Kurt shrugged free. His eyes widened when a low, muffled groan reached his ears, followed by a grunt. "Who..." he began.

Dale shushed him and pointed down the row of vehicles. "Over there."

"Oh my God," Kurt breathed.

One hand braced on the hood of a Humvee, pants around mid-thigh, Captain Steele jerked off while... Jesus Christ, was that _Sanderson_...? fucked him steadily from behind.

"That explains _so_ much," Kurt said finally. He rubbed the back of his neck and watched for awhile longer, then looked over at Dale. "There's another place, if you want to -- "

"Yeah," said Dale.

 

The darkened hallway had a pile of broken-down cardboard boxes on one end, stacked two feet high in front of a door to a storage room that nobody had gone in or out of since the troops had arrived on base.

"In _there_?" Dale asked.

Kurt nodded. "In there. Climb over -- the door opens to the inside." He scaled the heap of boxes and turned the doorknob, and the door swung open.

By the time Dale had made it into the room, Kurt was already rummaging through shelves and crates. Dale stood kind of awkwardly in the middle of the emptiest space, and looked a little surprised when Kurt crowed, "Aha!" and pulled out a box filled with bed rolls. Dale eyed the box nervously.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," Kurt said, noticing Dale's apprehension. He set the box aside.

Dale stared at Kurt for a full ten seconds, silently. "Unroll the fucking blankets," he said finally. Then he tugged his shirt over his head, as if to prove that he wasn't really as nervous as he looked.

Kurt laid the blankets and pillows out on the floor as quickly as he could, then got to his feet. He stared at Dale's bare chest -- miles of naked skin that he wanted to taste -- then reached out to touch. "Goddamn," he said.

Dale stared back, and exhaled a little breath when Kurt's fingertips landed softly on his shoulder.

"Hey," said Kurt, and then he wrapped a hand around the back of Dale's head and kissed him. Dale's mouth opened under his, and Kurt licked at his teeth, then beyond, flickering his tongue over Dale's. His free hand trailed down Dale's spine, and he found the dimples in his lower back with thumb and forefinger, pressed his hand there like it belonged. Dale's arms came around him, and for a minute Kurt remembered how nice it was to be held.

Two steps back, and Kurt was standing on the mound of blankets and pillows. He pulled Dale with him as he knelt. They were still kissing.

Dale's knees hit the blankets softly, and he could feel the concrete under him, but with Kurt's hands sneaking down into his pants, he didn't mind. Kurt was rubbing his hip and biting at his lower lip, and Dale broke the kiss when he heard something thud quietly against one of the pillows. Looked over, and Jesus, this was really happening. A little tube of KY jelly and a string of condoms were sitting on that pillow, waiting to be used. His hands started to shake.

Kurt felt Dale tense, and he caught his jaw with two fingers, turning him back towards himself. "Shh," he murmured. Kissed Dale's throat, nuzzled it a little. "Ignore that. I'm not forcing you into anything."

That might've been the sexiest thing Kurt had ever said to him, Dale thought, and so he grabbed him with his good hand, hauled him right up close so that they were pressed together from thigh to shoulder, and swirled his tongue into Kurt's mouth. His toes curled in his boots when Kurt slid his tongue alongside his own, and he moaned into the kiss. "I want you," he said when they parted again. He pressed his forehead to Kurt's and breathed heavily. "I do, but I've never been with another man bef -- "

"It's okay," Kurt said. He slid a hand over Dale's scalp, and stilled the other as it twitched in want of palming Dale's ass. "We don't have to -- "

Dale shoved his hips against Kurt's. They both sucked in sharp breaths when their hard cocks aligned through their pants. "Yeah, we do. Just go easy on me."

Kurt nodded. "Lie down. On your back."

Looking at the condoms on the one pillow with a bit of trepidation, Dale lay down so his head was resting on another. He eyed the condoms and lube until Kurt's fingers found his chin again.

"Look at me," Kurt said. "I'm not going to hurt you." He kissed Dale again, then sat up. "Lift your hips."

Dale's hips raised, and Kurt quickly tugged his pants down to his knees. He gasped when Kurt rubbed his cock through his briefs, fingers circling around the damp spot on the fabric.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah," Dale said. He pushed his crotch up into Kurt's hands, caught the waistband of his briefs with his good hand and shoved them down.

"Jesus," Kurt breathed. He stared down at Dale's cock, lying hot and heavy against his belly. _Wanted_. "Fucking gorgeous." He started only a little when he felt Dale's fingers at his fly, unsnapping and unzipping, then tugging at the fabric. When he'd pushed his pants down a little, Dale tugged him on top of himself and _wriggled_.

Their cocks pushed together as Dale's hips shimmied, and Kurt could feel his balls tightening at just that bit of contact. "Wait," he said, and pushed up into a sitting position again, straddling Dale's thighs. He reached for the condoms, tore one off. Handed it to Dale.

Dale's fingers closed around the condom wrapper, feeling it crinkle. Then he opened it. Made to roll it down Kurt's reddening dick, and damn, were his hands shaking. Kurt stopped him halfway. Looked so calm as he positioned the condom over Dale's own cock. Helped him put it on.

Then it was as if something switched on inside Kurt. His mouth was everywhere at once, teeth scraping across Dale's nipples and tongue soothing fresh bites. Dale was so overwhelmed by Kurt's aggressiveness that he barely noticed that Kurt's hands weren't on him. His eyes opened slowly, even though they wanted to stay squeezed shut. He let out a low moan when he saw that Kurt was reaching behind himself, and his fingers were -- "Fuck..."

Kurt pulled his fingers out, rose up on his knees, and slathered some lube over Dale's cock. He held it at the base and lowered himself slowly, felt the thick head nudging against his asshole. Grunted and winced when it pushed inside.

Dale's hand went to Kurt's hip and he uncrossed his eyes long enough to ask, "Christ, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Kurt said. "It's just been awhile." He rotated his hips and pushed himself down. Inhaled sharply when his ass settled against Dale's hips, rested there for a minute. Looked down at Dale. "Good?"

"Mm," Dale said.

Kurt experimentally shifted, and smiled when there wasn't any discomfort. "I'm going to start to move now. I want you to fuck up into me, alright?"

Dale nodded. Then Kurt lifted up, and he moaned and dug his fingers into Kurt's thigh. Dale thrust up to meet Kurt as he came back down, and the slap of flesh on flesh echoed through the room. He was nearly hypnotized by the sight of Kurt's body raising and lowering above him, and fuck he was hot, and tight. He wanted to voice all these thoughts, but wasn't quite sure how.

Not that it mattered. Kurt was a talker.

"Oh, fuck, you feel so good," Kurt moaned, and cupped his balls while he rode him. "You're so fucking hard inside me. Fuck me harder, D." He braced a hand on the floor, pumped his hips up and down Dale's shaft. Shuddered when Dale's cock-head slid past his prostate. "Mm, right there. Faster, please please _please_..."

Dale looked down to where their bodies joined, ran his thumb along the crease of Kurt's inner thigh. Groaned a minute later when Kurt lifted completely off him. "What...?"

Kurt swung his leg over Dale's hips, got down on his elbows and knees on the pile of blankets. "Fuck me hard, D." He rotated his hips, fucking the air and wiggling his ass at Dale. "Come on, do it."

Dale clambered to his knees, pumped his dick twice with a trembling fist, then lined himself up and pushed inside. He moaned when Kurt shoved his hips backwards and their bodies connected with a sharp slap. "Kurt -- "

"Hard, Dale. Ride me as hard as you can." Kurt shifted his hips. "Come on. Make me come all over the fucking blankets."

His fingers slipping on Kurt's sweaty hip, Dale pulled back and pushed inside, hard. Grunted at the strangled moan that slipped from Kurt's lips when he did it again.

Kurt fisted the blankets under his hands and pushed back into every thrust. His cock jumped each time their bodies slapped together. His hips shifted, trying to find the right angle, and when they did, his whole body stiffened. "Faster," he moaned.

Dale distantly registered that his thrusts were pushing the pile of blankets across the room. His glazed eyes focused on Kurt's sweaty, shuddering back heaving beneath him, then slid down to that tight, pert ass pushing back against his hips. He bit his lip as his balls drew up from watching his cock disappear inside Kurt over and over again. "Kurt, I'm gonna -- "

"Jerk me off," Kurt rasped. "Hard and fast, just like you're fucking me." He reached back and grabbed Dale's hand, placed it on his cock, braced himself against the floor. Shoved back against Dale's hips while Dale pulled on his dick. Then he stiffened, arched his back, and let out a hoarse wail. His thighs quaked against Dale's and he reached back with one hand, squeezed Dale's hip, and covered Dale's hand with sticky come. Then he slumped forward, his face pressed into rough blankets. "Keep going. I want you to come from fucking me."

Dale leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist, and fucked him with short, quick thrusts, huffing out quiet grunts between clenched teeth. He pressed his forehead between Kurt's shoulder blades, his own shoulders heaving, licked his lips, and felt more than heard Kurt moan his name. Then his hips surged forward one last time, slapping satisfyingly against Kurt's upturned ass, and he held them there and squirmed as his balls clenched and he felt the tip of the condom expand with each pulse of his come. His legs gave out and he landed heavily on top of Kurt.

"Dale," Kurt said after a minute.

"Hmmph?" Dale mumbled.

"I'm in the wet spot."

Dale lifted his head. "It's _your_ wet spot."

Kurt was silent for a minute, and then he heaved up enough to slide out from under Dale's inert form. Dale's cock slipped from him with a soft, wet pop. He flopped over onto his back, pulled up his pants, and watched Dale remove and tie off the condom.

"What do I do with this?" Dale asked.

Kurt eyed the stretched-out prophylactic for a minute, then plucked it out of Dale's hand and tossed it across the room. Then he reached out and stroked across Dale's sweaty hip, down his thigh, and caught one of his belt loops with his index finger. He tugged Dale's pants slowly back up.

Dale closed his eyes tiredly as he lifted his hips a little to help Kurt replace first his briefs, then his pants. He popped his neck and let Kurt adjust his soft cock inside his underwear, then zip his fly. "Listen," he said, "I'm going on extended leave effective immediately when we get home. I got accepted to the University of Illinois, Chicago, and I asked my parents to get me an apartment outside the city..." he trailed off, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. "I make a mean pot of five-alarm chili."

"Really?" Kurt asked. "Because every time I try someone's five-alarm chili, it ends up being a two and a half or three-alarm pot at most."

"Two words," Dale replied with a hint of a smile. "Cayenne. Pepper."

Kurt clutched his chest dramatically. "Be still my beating heart."

"So," Dale said. He got to his knees and looked around for his shirt. "We should go. Lights out soon."

Kurt stood and pulled his tee shirt back on. He watched Dale struggle to get his cast through a sleeve and helped him out with a firm tug.

At the door, they both hesitated. "Flying out tomorrow?" Kurt asked.

Dale nodded. "I've got all my papers -- the higher-ups want me to see a counselor in Chicago when I'm settled in."

Kurt opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it again. Opened it. "Dale -- "

"I'll save you some chili." Dale reached out and touched Kurt's face, tentatively, then turned toward the door. Jiggled the knob when it wouldn't turn. "Is there a lock on this?"

"Not that I know of. Let me try." Kurt nudged Dale to the side and yanked on the door with all his strength, then shielded himself from the torrent of boxes that flew into the room. He turned back to Dale. "To get to the barracks, take the third door on the right." Then he kissed Dale soundly and climbed over the box pile. "See you."

Dale stepped off the boxes. "See you."

Kurt watched Dale disappear back into the barracks. Then he pivoted on his heel, crossed his arms over his chest, and raised an eyebrow.

"Have a nice workout?" Hoot drawled, pushing away from the wall with his elbows.

Kurt smirked. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'll be walking bowlegged for days. Was it really necessary to hold the door shut, Gibson?"

Hoot cocked his head. "You know, I really think it was." He grinned.

With a shake of his head, Kurt smiled a little, then rubbed his hands over his thighs. "He asked about you yesterday," he said, knowing that Hoot would know exactly about whom he was speaking. "Just in passing, like he was trying too hard to be casual about it. You should think about going in to see him."

The expression on Hoot's face went from amused to pained, to blank. His voice, however, retained a raw quality about it, like he was trying not to cry, or to scream. "I _can't_ , Doc."

Kurt thought about how he'd be acting if he was in Hoot's shoes. Realized he didn't much like thinking about Dale lying on a hospital bed with a broken back. "Yeah, I get that. I'll tell him you're good. Busy, but good. He sounded worried."

Hoot let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Doc." Then, with a smile, he clapped Kurt on the shoulder. "So, Chicago?"

"It's not polite to eavesdrop," Kurt said. He started down the hallway, but Hoot stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's what I'm paid to do," Hoot replied. "And your shirt's on inside-out."

=====

**German translation:** _Fick mich! Bitte, bitte, fick mich!_ \-- Fuck me! Please, please, fuck me! (Aren't cognates fun?)


End file.
